


some have gone and some remain

by sparklyturtle



Series: the modern way [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cancer, Next Gen, Next next gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyturtle/pseuds/sparklyturtle
Summary: Harry is sixty-two when he breathes out a sigh of relief and a short laugh. The doctor looks at him like he’s a madman, which, to be fair, he very well may be.
Series: the modern way [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286975
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	1. satellites falling

_ february _

Harry is sixty-two when he breathes out a sigh of relief and a short laugh. 

The doctor looks at him like he’s a madman, which, to be fair, he very well may be. 

“Mr Potter,” she tries, leaning further forward so her stethoscope dangles loosely. It’s a lovely maroon, something akin to the colour of Ron’s first car- a Passat that he drove into every corner and post he could manage. “I’m not sure you understood me-”

“Understood perfect, dear,” he smiles, his eyes wrinkling behind his bottle-end glasses. The poor girl couldn’t be more than thirty, small and nervous as though he’s her first terminal patient so far. Can’t be easy on them, Harry thinks as she blinks confusedly at him,having to face people with the worst news.

“Well, there are some routes of treatment then,” she nods herself back into action and reaching for his file on her desk. “We can try chemotherapy, there are some new treatments available, experimental ones-”

“I don’t think so,” Harry shakes his head, a mop of dark grey tousling above him. Poor Ron was so jealous when he’d started balding at thirty-four and Harry hadn’t even gone grey- what would he think of him now? “There’s no need, really.”

“But Mr Potter-”

“It’s alright,” he smiles at her. “I think I’d rather not, if it’s all the same with you.”

Dr Nasim tilts her head slightly, brow furrowing slightly before she nods curtly at him and matches his smile.

“If that’s what you want then I won’t stop you,” she says softly. “But I’d like to help make it a bit  _ easier _ , if it’s all the same with  _ you _ .”

-

Ru Potter is newly thirty-seven when he’s sat down and told his dad is dying.

“Lung cancer,” Dad says from his seat on the sofa. He says it as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. As though he’d just pointed out a cyclist heading for Penton Street. As though this was  _ fine.  _

“What do you mean?” Jamie asks from somewhere to Ru’s left, sounding so far away.

“Squamous cell carcinoma, to be exact,” Dad says in a very George way, a voice he usually reserves for when he wants to annoy Mum.  _ Merlin, poor Mum- _

“I don’t understand-”

“I only remembered ‘cause I wrote it down,” Dad says, waving his hand at them where his chicken scratch was visible. “The poor doctor had to spell it about nine times-”

“How do you have cancer?” Jamie cries, smacking Dad’s hand from his face. “Why are you so calm about this?”

Ru looks over at his big brother, all six foot two of him, all thirty-nine years of him, and sees a scared little boy. Jamie Potter does not cry, nor admit defeat, but as he stands facing Dad, tears welling over in his amber eyes, he is afraid and broken. 

From his perch on the coffee table, Ru glances over to Lilly, curled up on the armchair by the fire, staring emptily out into space. She’s fiddling with her engagement ring, the sapphire stone reflecting in her glass eyes. He could only imagine the way she must be spiraling right now. Poor Lil-

“Morning!” a cheerful voice calls from the hall as the front door creaks open. 

Jamie plods down on the table beside Ru at the sound of Teddy’s voice, grabbing his brother’s hand wordlessly. He stares straight ahead, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks. 

“‘Lo,” Teddy says cheerily as he bursts into the front room, crows feet crinkling. They fade almost immediately, his natural reactions taking over when he sees the others in tears. “Bloody hell, what’s-”

“Morning, Ted,” Dad grins up at him, patting a spot on the sofa beside him. Teddy does so, looking around confusedly, his eyes meeting Ru’s for a split second. Ru shakes his head, his own eyes filling up as he properly looks at Dad for the first time. 

He’s so calm. Ru couldn’t say that Dad was  _ enjoying _ this, but he definitely isn’t despairing. Does he  _ want  _ to fight? Was there any point? He looks tired, more than anything, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks up at Ted, frowning slightly.“What’s goin’ on?” Teddy asks incredulously, reaching over and handing Jamie back his glasses which he’d apparently discarded on the sofa somewhere.

“I’ve a bit of news-” Dad tries, putting a hand on Ted’s shoulder. His scar folds, straining his weathered skin.

“He’s dying,” Lilly snaps bitterly from behind them. “He’s dying and he doesn’t give a shit.” She storms out of the room in a flurry of red, slamming the door firmly behind her. 

“ _ Bollox _ ,” Dad grunts, running out after her. Ru can hear them running up the stairs, Dad’s footsteps landing heavier on the steps than they used to. 

He lifts his gaze from the couch, turning to face Ted whose sitting frozen stiff, unmoved from where Dad had placed him. His hair has shifted to a sandy-brown from his usual blue, and he suddenly resembles a picture on the mantelpiece a great-deal more than usual. 

“He’s dying?” Teddy whispers after a moment, looking to Ru for some kind of guidance. “How long-”

“Dunno,” Jamie croaks, his voice raw and hoarse. “Didn’t get much further than that first bit.”

“Merlin,” Teddy says, his hand coming to cover his mouth as he gulps down a sudden burst of tears. “Boys, I’m-”

“Don’t, Ted,” Ru shakes his head, his own voice seeming to struggle more to get out of his mouth now. Jamie’s reaches up, pulling Ru’s head into his own shoulder. 

There’s a bang upstairs, either a book or a hex being thrown at Dad, none of them are sure. The three sit in silence for a while, the only sound being Lilly yelling at Dad two stories up. They’d each get their turn for that. 

-

Ginny is stirring her tea with her finger when her youngest son inches open the kitchen door and peeps round the edge. 

“Fancy some company?” he asks, puffy red eyes peering round at her in the dim morning light. 

“Tea’s just hot,” she gestures to the pot in front of her. She flicks her wrist and a second cup joins hers on the table. Ru scurries over to her, settling in beside her with a bowed head and a dower expression. He spares her a half-arsed smile as he reaches for the milk, reminding her so suddenly of Ron, tailing after the twins or Charlie to tell Mum they’d done something wrong. They sit and listen to the sound of the milk being poured into the cup, with a gentle  _ plop  _ of the four sugars following. 

“I dunno how you’ve any teeth left in your head,” she sighs jokingly, watching him stir his tea. “Honestly-”

“How far along is it?” Ru asks, looking her dead in the eyes. The redness from crying only makes his eyes more vivid, an intense pair of emeralds staring at her. 

“Stage 4,” she croaks, wrapping her hands tightly round her own mug. “End stage.”

“So it can’t be treated then?”

“He doesn’t want it to be,” Ginny says, her voice breaking as she erupts into another bout of tears. She’s fed up of crying already, fed up of throwing things at Harry and screaming at him to fight. “I can’t look at him right now, Ruby, I just-”

“I don’t get it,” Ru frowns, stirring his tea so vigorously some splashes out and scalds his hand. “Bloody hell, is he going to go to a healer-”

“He’s gone to one already but there’s not much they can do, either,” Ginny reaches up to pat her son’s cheek, rubbing away some of his tears. “It’s his choice, sweetheart. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

“There’s one thing,” Jamie saunters through the door, hands shoved firmly in his pockets. He pulls out a fold of paper and flicks it into the remaining embers of last night’s fire. It vanishes immediately in a puff of blue smoke. “It might not work, but it’s worth a chance, surely.”

-

The early morning of February ninth is bitterly cold in Regent’s Park. It was one of the hardest frosts of the winter last night, and it’s wreaking havoc on the Minister of Magic’s joints. 

Hermione Granger has not been agile in quite some time, her hip having seized up last May, her fingers curling up with an arthritis potions could only do so much for. She hasn’t stirred out this early in a while, preferring to leave jobs in this weather for the Home Secretary (Silas is only fifty-five, and still gets a kick from ribbon-cutting). This isn’t an ordinary outing, though, that much had been clear from the note. 

She spots him well before he sees her, settled in the bandstand facing out on the lake. Bless him, he’s holding a tray of coffees. Merlin knows where he got them this early- there’s only a few people milling about so far, mainly gritters and hospital staff- but Harry Potter always has his sources. 

She comes in behind him, from the university ground, sidestepping a few frozen piles of vomit as she tries not to slip on the ice. He’s humming away to himself, enjoying the best attempt at quiet London can offer. He only hears her when she lands hard on the step beside him, latching firmly onto the sleeve of his coat to avoid a scrawny wyvern scrambling by on the ground. 

“Mornin’,” Harry grabs her by the waist, helping her leap over the creature and sit beside him on the bench he’d acquired. “You here to lecture me?”

“I’d never, Harry, how dare you suggest such a thing,” Hermione says, eagerly grabbing for the coffee cup he offers her. 

He grins, wriggling as he reaches into his pocket for something, pulling out a box of Marlboro. With the sense to avoid her gaze, he follows with a lighter, a dainty thing with a prancing lion that Rose had gotten him for is a sixtieth. There's a faint smile playing on his lips as he takes a drag, taking a moment to fiddle with the lighter before meeting Hermione's glare.

He has the balls to giggle.

"Oh, c'mon, Mione," he grins, his eyes lighting up. "They're not gonna do me any harm at this stage, are they?"

“Why are you enjoying this?” she thumps his arm, earning a yelp of disdain from him. He stares out at the lake, taking a moment to watch a pair of dryads float gently on the lake. “Has this even hit you properly? Do you even understand-”

“Course I do,” Harry’s voice is suddenly sullen. Hermione turns slightly, watching a shadow fall over his face. His glasses seem to cloud over, a bare fleck of orange from the butt of his cigarette reflecting off the lense. “I know what I’m signing up for, Hermione.”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking his hand the moment the cigarette leaves his grasp, struggling to separate her fingers to do so. "Harry, I don't want to give out to you-"

"First time for everything," he mutters, taking a long drag. He earns another smack, this one less harsh and teamed with a begrudging smirk.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," Hermione squeezes his hand firm as she can, leaning round to force him to look at her. His eyes are glassy now, nearly breaking her heart as they bore into her. "I-I understand why you want to do this, Harry,  _ trust me _ , I do." She purses her lips together, doing her level best not to cry. "But that doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for leaving me."

"Blimey, Mione," Harry flicks the butt away and throws his arms round her, cradling her close as ugly sobs engulf her. 

"First Ron, then you," she sniffles. "Who am I going to sit and bicker with now?"

"You'll always find someone," he snickers, burying his chin into her hair. "I'll get a portrait done for you, then, you can hang it in your offi-"

"Think I'll be fine, actually," Hermione gulps back another tear. "Don’t want your ugly mug scaring off the muggle PM."

“Wouldn’t do him any harm,” Harry grumbles, his chin tickling the top of her head as he speaks. “If he acts up, you can threaten me haunting him and-”

“Oh, Merlin’s soggy trousers, Harry!” she cackles, slapping him on the leg. “Is this what the next few years are going to be like?”

“Doubt it’ll be years, ‘Mione,” he squeezes her shoulders, grabbing her hand suddenly in his lap. “But I’ll do my best, that fair enough?”


	2. just pushing along

_ march _

“When do you want to tell the kids, then?”

This is the fourth time Alison has broached this subject with Jamie. 

“When it’s the right time.”

This is the fourth time Jamie has answered her this.

She can understand not telling Morgan and Sonny- they’re only five, there’s no point until he knows exactly what to tell them, how to explain. But  _ John Dee _ , Alex is seventeen, and she can’t stand lying to him. The twins are up to Jamie and Lisa, fair enough, but if he thinks he can keep lying to Alex and expect no questio-

“I should tell Alex.”

Oh.

“He knows something’s wrong,” Jamie says quietly. He’s standing facing out the window, still in his pyjamas. Must be a strange sight for the people walking by on the street- a nearly forty-year-old man standing staring down at them, decked in a Holyhead Harpies jersey, tatty pyjama bottoms and sporting a head of fading ginger facing in seven different directions. She shrugs into her tea. The residents of Tulse Hill have probably seen stranger things. 

“Dot outright asked last week,” Jamie says, reaching back to scratch his back. “Poor Ted didn’t know what to say, you’d know on him.”

“Dad was saying Emmy was hounding him before they went for midterm,” Alison says, tilting her head. “She’s relentless-”

“Wouldn’t be anything to Hermione if she wasn’t,” he turns back to her, taking a swig of coffee. “It’s not fair to keep it from them, is it?”

“If Harry wants the kids to know-”

“I know, Ali,” Jamie sighs, flopping on the sofa beside her. He leans his head back, slouching down so he’s looking up at her. “But what do we even say?”

Before she can answer Alex stomps through the door, a fuzzy mop of blonde shielding his eyes as he grunts generally in his parents’ direction before heading for the fridge. He has to crouch to see into the top shelf, mirroring his father in practically vintage Harpies gear. 

Alison raises her eyebrows expectantly down at Jamie who pulls a face and equips his best puppy-dog eyes before groaning slightly and nodding. 

“Mate, will you c’mere for a minute?” he calls after Alex. “We need to have a bit of a chat, just for a second, Al.”

-

“Will you just sit down?”

“I can’t sit anymore,” Harry groans, standing in the backdoorway and feigning a stretch. “My arse hurts from sitting, Gin.”

She glares over her shoulder and turns back to her broom, busy scraping muck from the twigs. He’d taken a bad coughing fit last night, nearly terrifying her. They’d rushed him into Barts to drain another pleural effusion, only. They’d only been back ten minutes when she’d vanished out the back.

Perched on the bench in the freezing garden, wrapped in decades of  _ G  _ jumpers, he can see how tightly held her shoulders are. She’s still not best impressed with him, then. 

“Can I help at all?” he asks, walking round to stand in front of her so she has to at least acknowledge his existence. “Give you a break-”

“You can sit down and rest,” she snaps, scraping lumps of dried clay onto his boots. Ru had gotten them a year’s voucher to valet the brooms whenever they wanted. Hugo had gotten her a servicing kit only last Christmas, with a big bottle of  _ Bigley’s Cleaning Fluid,  _ but she’s chosen pure brute force with a palette knife. 

Harry can only wonder why. 

“Or I could do something,” he sighs, kicking a patch of sod off the path. “I’m not  _ dying- _ ”

She flinches so hard she lances a twig straight off. 

“Didn’t mean that,” he mumbles, patting his side where they’d put in the needle. 

“Yes you did,” she says, calmly putting down the broom and knife on the ground and standing to face him. She squares her shoulders firmly back, standing inches from him and prodding him in the chest so hard he splutters a cough. “Because  _ that part  _ hasn’t hit home yet, has it?”

“Ginny-”

“Some part of your brain still thinks you’re going to walk this off,” she snaps, slapping his hand away from her before he can touch her arm. There’s something ferocious in her gaze, staring deep into his soul almost. She’s always been good at that. 

“I wouldn’t have turned down all the treatments if I thought that, Gin.”

“You could at least pretend to care, then,” her voice cracks. Christ, this is what he’s doing to her. “Stop it with the jumping around, lifting the kids, prancing along like nothing’s happening, like you’re still going to be here in a few months-”

Something catches in her throat there and she falls into his open arms, wrapping her own as tightly round him as she can before he starts coughing. 

“I’m sorry for being a yelling,” she mumbles into his neck after a beat. 

“I’m sorry for being a prat,” he says into her hair, watching her new greys twinkle in the watery afternoon sun.

“Used to it,” she plants her chin on his chest and looks up at him, bleary eyes meeting tired grins. She reaches up to kiss him, and for the first time in over a month Harry could see a semblance of normality trying to stay put.

-

“Calendars cleared for April second,” Lilly cries, bursting into the kitchen with Aster on her hip and Lyra flying past her to leap on an unsuspecting Alex.

“What calendars?” Jamie asks exasperatedly, trying to catch Morgan as he flies round the kitchen on a  _ Nimbus 99.  _ The five-year-old is zipping round faster than can possibly be safe, to the point that Lilly can just about make out a blur of auburn curls. 

“What’s in April?” Ru asks, grabbing their nephew and lifting him clean off the broom. It knocks the air out of Morgan completely as the broom slams straight into the cupboard over the sink. 

“Wedding!” Aster squeals as she’s planted on the floor. She runs to Ru’s feet, reaching up to grab at Morgan’s wiggling feet as he ducks to avoid the ricocheting broom. 

“Mummy and daddy are getting married!” Lyra cries, throwing her arms into the air so fast she smacks Alex in the face. “We’re gonna have dresses and presents!”

Jamie and Ru share a look. 

It reminds Lilly infuriatingly of Nan.

“April’s very soon, no?” Jamie says, reaching out to take Morgan off Ru. 

“Why rush?” Ru asks, picking Aster up instead. She plants a horribly wet kiss on her uncle’s cheek, and to his credit, he only  _ slightly  _ grimaces. She’s very lucky she’s like Uncle Charlie in nature, or else Ruby would have slaughtered her some time ago. 

“Yeah, you and Archie’ve only been engaged since before I was born, Lil,” Alex says, bouncing Lyra on his knee from his perch in the corner. If she weren’t trying not to kick him, Lilly would remark upon how grown up her nephew has gotten. Behind the flurry of ginger as her eldest goes flying up and down, she can see he’s gotten very like Dad, high cheekbones and curved nose, deep-set amethyst eyes glittering up at her behind his hornrims. 

“Now just seems like the right time,” she says hurriedly when she hears Mum coming down the stairs babbling along with Sonny. “Don’t say any-”

“Lilly’s getting married,” Ru burst out before Mum can even step into the kitchen. She freezes in the doorway, one arm outstretched for Sonny to pull her along by. Sonny’s still singing along to herself, completely unbothered by the news. 

“She’s been getting married for the past twenty years, love,” Mum says, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head slightly. “Why is this news?”

“Because it’s actually happening this time,” Alex pipes up, yelping when Lilly kicks him in the shin. He’s so like Jamie sometimes. “Next month, apparently.”

Mum doesn’t have to say anything, but she lets out a sigh and purses her lips at Lilly. She knows why. She also knows the little ones don’t have to know why. 

“Poppet-”

“We want to,” Lilly says, shrugging and avoiding her mother’s gaze. “It’s about time.”

-

_ april _

The second rolls in on a Thursday, and with it comes the first breath of summer. 

Hugo can feel it coming, and it’s almost enough to stop him hating Lilly for forcing him to wear linen in spring. She  _ would _ make him wear linen in glorified March. 

“Why couldn’t you get married on a hot day?” he yells down the hall towards her room. He stops just outside the bathroom to fix a wonky frame on the wall- it’s a mighty old picture, with Mum and Dad and Harry outside the Burrow some summer yonks ago. You can tell Mum’s just after giving out to them, the way she’s screwing up her face in the sun and the way the two of them keep grinning to each other and looking away. 

Mum always says he and Lil and far too like Dad and Harry for their own good, has done since they were tiny. None of them were ever sure if that was a compliment or not. 

He wishes Dad were here. Lilly was always Dad’s favourite, at times even more so than either Hugo or Rosie. He’d have loved to see this. He could just imagine the nonsense that would be spoken at the reception. 

“Don’t blame the weather on me, Hughie,” Lilly yells back suddenly, jolting him out of his thoughts. The door of her room swings open, light flooding into the dimly lit hallway. Harry had tried to brighten the place up when he’d first moved in, before even Gin lived here, but parts of the house remained dank no matter how many charms and wallpapers he’d hurled at the walls. 

Lilly steps into the space, decked in soft lace in a pale blue. Duck egg, perhaps. He’s a bit colourblind so it might be pink, to be fair. The dress is very  _ normal _ , especially when compared to some dresses he’d seen cousins don. She has her hair pinned back with a million and one tiny plaits, a few little celestial clips stuck in at places, her wand securing it all back. She’s wearing flat shoes, sensible shoes that just happen to be pale blue. 

It’s all very  _ Lilly-  _ no fuss, just get the job done, and if it could look alright along the way, all the better. 

“Well?” she throws her arms back dramatically. “Will I do?”

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Hugo laughs, shaking his head. 

“It’s only been eighteen years and two kids in the making,” Lilly grins, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear. She’s even charmed her hearing aids to look pretty and sparkly, Merlin on a bike. 

“Better be a good party, so,” he says mock-seriously, reaching for her arm to walk her down the stairs. 

-

Lilly Potter becomes Lilly Belle at two in the afternoon.

Her father wheezes a sigh of relief. 

His mother had been honoured, and his daughter had escaped the shadow of that name. Bloody  _ finally _ . 

Harry can’t help but cry like a baby. He knows by the looks everyone gives him that they think it’s because he’s dying, but he catches Hermione’s eye and she nods as if to say that she knows he’s just a sap. 

He can’t dance much at the reception, save for his and Lil’s dance and a few little prances with the little ones. Hermione stays firmly at his side, letting Ginny do the socialising. They’d agreed that she was probably greatful he couldn’t dance, because it meant she wouldn’t be icing her feet for the next week. .

“Now you tell me, Harry Potter,” Katie Belle plods down beside him at an interval when Hermione’s been whisked away between Jamie and Louis, the two idiots doing their level best to make her puke, by the looks of things. “Did you ever think when I was beating you at Quidditch practice that we’d wind up in-laws?”

He’s got Sonny curled up in his lap at this stage. Or, rather, he’s got a five-year-old drooling against his shirt as he strokes her hair. 

“Rather you than Wood,” he grins, trying to tilt his granddaughter slightly to sit back in the seat a bit better. He’s sore from sitting and dead tired from the events of the day, but he won’t go. No matter how many times Ginny tells him to take it easy, he can’t just  _ go.  _ “He’s still heartbroken Rosie and Sean haven’t spawned an entire team’s worth of children-”

“This  _ is  _ the same man who tried to drown himself in the shower because we lost a match once in school,” Katie counters with a smirk. She must catch him wincing because her face suddenly falls. “Harry, I-”

“‘m alright,” he mutters as a burning pain pushed through his back. He takes his wand from the table and taps it to his leg twice, allowing a burst of mild relief to pour through him. “Just a bit achey.”

“Is there anything that can be done, Harry, honestly?” Katie stares earnestly at him. “Lilly’s a bit-”

“Too angry to talk about it?” Harry half laughs, but the laugh quickly turns into a fit of coughing, Sonny leaping onto Katie as he doubles over. His head swims, his glasses sliding down his nose and his scar-

His scar.

He’d forgotten what that felt like. 

Molly Weasley had always sworn that your weaknesses flare up when you’re sick. So here he was, with his biggest weakness burning into his forehead as it hadn’t in such a long time. When his vision clears, he’s buckled over in two. 

Hermione has gone white, Neville at her side as they both stare just above his eyes. 

“Dad?” Ru is on his knees in front of him, grabbing at his face and trying to steady him. “Dad, you with us?” 

Ginny’s arriving behind him but he can’t hear what she’s saying. Jamie’s at her flank and swooping a scared little Sonny into his arms. Through streaming eyes Harry can see Alex taking her off him, cradling her as Jamie crouches beside his brother. And then beside them no no no Lilly no no-

“You’re going to bed and you’re going to rest, okay?” Lilly says sternly, leaning on Ru’s shoulders to reach over to grab Harry’s hand. “You’re not going to argue, you’re just going to do it, alright?”

-

Jamie doesn’t think he’s ever seen his dad cry before. Not like this, at least.

Jamie is nearly forty, and he can’t say he’s ever seen his dad curled up and openly weeping. It very nearly breaks his heart. 

Ruby is glassy-eyed as he helps Dad hobble into bed, one arm curled around his waist. Ru is taller than Dad. Ru’s never been taller than Dad.

_ Merlin.  _

Jamie feels his knees go weak as Dad lands on the bed and he suddenly realises that  _ Dad is dying.  _ He doesn’t think it’s hit him before this but  _ Merlin  _ he’s gotten so  _ small _ . Oh Merlin’s beard-

“I’m so sorry, boys,” Dad gulps back tears and spluttering coughs. “I’m so sorry-”

“What have you got to be sorry for?” Ru laughs, snuffling slightly. The cheeks are red, Jamie notices, and despite his best efforts his smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes. Dad notices. Dad always notices. 

“Ruby-”

“Don’t,” Ru sniffles, pulling the bed sheet over Dad’s legs and looking him dead in the eyes. “You don’t go apologising, alright?”

Jamie feels useless, watching his brother hug their dad tight as he can without inducing another coughing fit. He’s supposed to be the oldest, supposed to be the one there for the others-

“We’ll let you get some rest, alright Dad?” he hears Ru say, but he just nods slightly and follows guiding hands out into the hallway. 

Mum is outside the door, chewing anxiously on her nails. She snaps to attention the second they close the door, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“He’s just tired and upset,” Ru says, smiling as best as he can manage. “But he’s comfy as he can be.”

“I’ve never seen him cry like that,” Jamie finds his voice but it’s a grumble at best, caught somewhere in the base of his throat. “‘ve never seen him just-”

“Break apart?” Mum asks, taking her hand from her mouth to reach up and pat down Ru’s hair. “It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen, lovey.”

“It just… it doesn’t feel like a  _ Dad  _ thing-”

“I think he’s earned this one, love,” she croaks, sighing as Ru’s hair pops back into position immediately. “Don’t you?”


	3. any minute all the pain will stop

_ may _

Teddy's first encounter with a wheelchair comes on May Day, when he bundles Hazza up and carts him off. Away from a wilting, tired Jiddy, away from crying, red-eyed children and giddy, jumping grandchildren. 

According to his doctors, Haz has a month, two max, left in him. And Haz seems okay with that. So Teddy is okay with that.

"Do you remember the first time I brought you here, Ted?" Haz calls back over his shoulder as Teddy pulls his chair round by the lake. "You were only tiny, 'member?"

"Doubt it," Teddy says, stopping at a bench facing out towards the water and applying the brakes. "Can't really remember  _ not  _ coming here."

"I brought you here when Gin was expecting Jamie," Hazza chuckles, the laugh grumbling in his throat. "Thought I'd bribe you with ice cream so you wouldn't mind not being the baby anymore."

"And did it work?" Teddy grins, tapping two fags out of his box, tucking one into Haz’s outstretched hand. He pats down his jacket, fishing a lighter out from somewhere deep within his coat pocket. If he had known all those years ago that charming cavernous pockets into his favourite jacket would result in him losing an awful lot of shit, he probably wouldn’t have done it.

“You tell me,” Haz already has the smoke locked between his teeth by the time Teddy’s finished wriggling, chin jutting out expectantly. He leans over and clicks the lighter, Hazza taking a deep inhale and spluttering up half a lung. “Do you mind not being the baby?”

“Think I’m coping,” Teddy grins, cupping his hand around his cigarette to catch the flame. He can feel his godfather watching him, eyes boring into his skull.

“Do you think the others will?” 

“Will what?”

“ _ Cope _ .”

It’s taken Teddy a considerable amount of time to come to terms with this all. It had caught him completely off guard the first time, only a few weeks ago, that he’d realised the reason people weren’t reacting to Hazza’s presence was because they didn’t recognise him. Not because they weren’t learning about the Boy Who Lived in schools anymore, but they didn’t recognise him anymore, because he wasn’t really the Great Harry Potter anymore. He didn’t look like the Chosen One; he just looks like a poor man who’s dying, and that doesn’t correlate with the image many hold of him. 

“Course they will,” Teddy says, taking a long drag and staring out at the lake. “They’ll feel like the world’s ending, everyone will get it hard to look at Ru for a while ‘cause he’s just you without the specs.” He shrugs, hunching over and resting his elbows on his knees. “But after a while, they’ll be okay. They’ll have to be.”

“Make sure they are, Ted,” Harry rasps, rubbing the back of his godson’s head. 

It’s quiet, and as a plume of smoke circles in front of Teddy’s eyes he has an excuse to let loose a few stray tears. They  _ will  _ be fine, he knows they will. Teddy has lost people. He has spent his entire life feeling plagued with the neverending loom of grief just beyond his shoulders, but from such a young age he has continued on. He has never felt entirely whole, but as he grew he found people to fill the spaces in. 

He knows that a big chunk of him will go numb when his Hazza leaves in the not-so-distant future, a solid part of him will clear out the same way it did when Nana went. But life goes on, so Teddy will go on until his own light flickers out and then he will meet them all again. 

Because Haz has decided to be okay with going, so Teddy has decided to be okay with it too. 

-

When Dad died, Hugo laughed.

Which is probably awful and maybe the worst thing he’s ever done and he one thousand percent deserved the kicking Ro gave him, but _ in fairness _ . 

When Dad died, Hugo had been with him. Hugo had watched. And it had been the single most hysterical moment of his life. Which, again, was probably awful.

The testing for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had found new methods over the years, but they stood by the message that all products are self-tested. So when Dad had tested a new transformation treacle one evening in the backroom of the shop and had subsequently turned into a dragon for approximately thirty-three seconds, Hugo had been ecstatic and was already writing a note to send a boxload to Uncle Charlie. But then Dad had turned back to Dad, and his heart took a second to come back, and  _ basically  _ exploded. ( _ Technically  _ he’d had a heart attack, but still.)

His dying words were “Oh balls”, which Nan would have absolutely  _ hated  _ but Dad probably  _ loved _ . He probably planned it on his way back to his human form. That’s what Mum reckoned, anyway.

Hugo’s making tea, Mum sitting at the table behind him with about nine miles of forms thrown out in front of her, and Harry in the armchair beside her. His eyes are closed, calm and serene as the sun pours in through the open double doors. Emmy’s sitting out on the deck, pulling string for Roddy the three-legged demon of a cat. There’s the faint sound of cars travelling down Selsdon Road, but it's still fairly quiet.

Harry and Mum like to be together on the second, go out of their way for it, even. Dad used to, aswell, of course. For as long as Hugo could remember, they’d all bundle in together, the five Potters and the four Granger-Weasleys. Usually down to Shell Cottage in the morning to greet Vicky with her presents and maybe a splash in the sea when they were smaller, then probably over to pick up Teddy, do a little tour round the Scottish highlands towards the evening, then all back to whichever house for dinner. Then in the evening when all the kids were tucked away, Harry, Dad and Mum would sit out the back garden, just the three of them. Even when they’d all gotten old enough to be up late, it was always the three of them out the back, never another intruder. 

For that reason, this is the first time Hugo has really faced the fact that Harry won’t be here this time next year and it’ll just be Mum out the back. His mind floats back to every moment his uncle had slipped him a sweet or a few galleons when Mum and Dad weren’t looking, or let him win in a game of Quidditch, or the year he’d bought him a new Chudley Cannons jersey for his birthday. 

He can’t help but remember telling Harry about how Dad died, when he’d rolled back laughing with a cry of “Fuck sake, Ron!” Because while Hugo always knew his parents loved each other with every fibre of their beings, Uncle Harry was Dad’s  _ soulmate _ . 

When he’d been an idiot growing up, Mum would tell him he had the worst bits of Dad in him. (Rose would love to chime in that he had most of Mum’s bad bits, too, but she was one to talk.) But Harry just  _ got  _ Dad, so he had always just understood Hugo, too. It’s weird now to look at his uncle as he reaches over for a chocolate frog and realise that he’s losing one of the people who always understood where he was coming from. It’s sad, and it feels kind of lonely, even if Harry winks at him as he jams half the poor frog into his gob. 


	4. light up, look up

_ june _

“ _ Christ  _ it’s cold, Ro.”

Rose Granger-Weasley hasn’t set foot on British soil in roughly three years, give or take a few weeks. She shakes off the memory- she hadn’t exactly behaved at her best when Dad passed, and to say the extended family weren’t best impressed with her appearing for a wet week and then pissing off back to the other side of the world would be an understatement.

A gust of wind hits her side and she has to begrudgingly admit that maybe Sean  _ does  _ have a point. Mid-May in London is fairly different to the Sydney equivalent, in all fairness, and he’s not the best with the cold at the best of times. 

“C’mon, then,” Sean throws an arm around her shoulder and together they step forward in a gust of wind. 

The front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was bright red when Rose was small. It’s a sort of burgundy, now, with strips of paint peeling off. It takes all her strength not to fix it as they wait on the doorstep, listening to the doorbell echo through the hall. 

There’s a loud bang followed by a muffled yell. They hear two voices arguing, perhaps a third quieting them, but it’s muffled through the door. She stares pointedly at the eyehole, waiting for a cousin’s bright eyes to stare down at her. 

She jumps when confronted with a rather tall blonde boy, yanking the door open and looking confusedly at her. The Potters aren’t blonde, she thinks to herself as the two of them take each other in. Had she the wrong address? Had they moved? Surely not, Mum would have said-

“Can I help you?” the boy asks, scrunching his nose in a way that definitely feels familiar. He stands staring, his hands working feverishly to clean his glasses on his jumper. 

“I’m looking for-” Rose tries, but is interrupted by a thump, a silence, and the deafening scream of a wailing child.

“Shit, sorry,” the kid grimaces, shoving his glasses onto his face and turning to sprint up the stairs. She recognises something in the way he lurches around, but  _ honest to Merlin. _

Sean’s walking in the door before she can stop him, grabbing her arm and pulling when she protests. A photo of Uncle Harry waves down at them from the wall beside the door, grinning to show off a new broom. Right house, at least. 

“I wonder was he-” Sean says, a flurry of ginger flying past before he can think.

Lilly Potter (or _Belle_ , now, as it may be) launches herself at Rose with a squeal, knocking every inch of air out of her lungs and maybe squeezes out her eyeballs for good measure. 

“Oh Rosie,” Lilly cries, leaning back and taking her cousin’s face in her hands. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, oh  _ Rosie.” _

“Good to be home, Lils,” Rose smiles, wiping a tear from her cousin’s cheek. “How are things?”

“Who's the wain?” Sean asks, reaching out for a hug. “Bit young for your tastes, I would’ve thought.”

“Who?” Lilly asks, a smile playing on her lips. She’s gotten so thin, so gaunt, Rose can’t help but notice. “Alex?”

“James’ Alex?” Rose is incredulous. Had she been away from home that long? The last time she’d seen Alex he was only tiny, couldn’t have been much more than seven! An unholy lump of guilt finds its way into her throat. Merlin, how awful of her-

“He’s taken a bit of a leap, lately,” Lilly grins, fiddling with a strand of hair. “He’s far taller than Jay at this stage, but c’mon! Mum will be dying to see you.” 

She leads them into the drawing room, smacking a doxie out of the air as she opens the door. The drawing room of Grimmauld Place had once been the house’s heart, their pride and joy, always full of noise and laughter. It’s quiet now. Ginny sits in an armchair by the window, staring out at the world with glazed over eyes. A few stray toys litter the floor around her, and a cold cup of tea dangles in her hand, threatening to spill over. 

Lilly takes careful steps towards her mother, getting down on her knees to take Gin’s hand and whispering “Visitors, mum, come look” gently. Rose nibbles anxiously at her nail. She’s acted so awfully over Dad’s funeral, poor Ginny probably hated her for ditching poor Mum like that,  _ oh Merlin’s soggy trousers _ -

“He said you’d be here.”

She has gotten small. She’s old and beaten and tired, her chin pointed through her worn little face. Rose nearly faints- this can’t possibly be her fiery Auntie Gin, nearly doubled over and leathery.

“He’s been holding out for you, Rosie,” Ginny says in a quiet voice, stepping towards her niece coyly. Rose can’t speak, frozen still as though Nan was just after catching her doing something naughty. Ginny stands toe-to-toe with her and reaches out a hand. Rose flinches, she can’t help it, expecting a slap. But Gin just pats her cheek.

“Go on up, darling. We’ll chat later.”

Rose is shaking, but manages a small smile and a nod. She looks past her aunt at Lilly, standing frozen by the window still, eyes wide as she stares blankly at her mother’s back. She can only shrug in response.

Rose turns for Sean, but Ginny already has him by the arm and is dragging him away to the kitchen. Well then.

“She’s gotten so like Nan,” Rose breathes out once she hears the door close.

“Oh, she has her moments,” Lilly snorts, a bright sapphire glistening on her ring finger. Something plummeted in her stomach as Rose remembered she hadn’t even replied to Lilly’s wedding invite. 

“Where are your girls, Lil?” she asks, trying to bridge a gap she’d let grow cavernous. Christ, how old even were they? She’d never met them, or Jamie’s, for that matter. She only saw her own niece a couple of times a year, nevermind anyone else’s kids.

“Matt has them,” she smiles absentmindedly. “Jay keeps bringing the twins over but,” she stalls, swallowing hard, “I don’t think it’s fair for them to see him like this. I want them to remember their Granddad the way he was, y’know?”

In that moment Lilly looks like a child, frightened and upset after some shithead had made fun of her hearing aids on her first day of school. Rose wants to bundle her up and wrap her up, but the thought feels awkward after so long.

Maybe she’s prolonging the inevitable, and maybe Lilly can sense it because she nods to the ceiling with a small “Shall we?”

Rose gulps. “S’pose.”

Wherever Alex scurried the screaming twins off to, they’re silent as Rose treks her way up the stairs. Her legs have never felt heavier, had there always been that many steps?

From the top of the stairs she can see a crack of light from the opening of the bedroom door. With unsteady feet she crosses the landing. There’s a strange sound coming from the room, is he fighting something? Is he hurt? Does he need help?

“Is that Take That?” she mutters, a little horrified. She nudges open the door just as Lulu joins in, seeing a head of salt and pepper hair bobbing along to the beat. He doesn’t even hear her coming in, he's enjoying it that much. It had always seemed one of her uncle’s more eclectic tastes, or crap, as Hugo would say. He’s lying on the bed, not in it, and from her current perch he seems relatively normal in his Cardinals jersey.

“That song’s only fifty years old,” she says, speaking before she loses her nerve. “That’s very modern for you.”

He looks up and she nearly jumps out of her skin. His cheekbones poke out sharply, his nose looks beaky, his eyes dwelling deep in their sockets. But grinning up at her are two bright, cheerful, wonderful eyes. His glasses are slipping down his nose because his face has shrunk, but he shoves them back up with a bony finger and beams.

“Hello, Rolo,” he croaks. She can’t help but burst into tears, dams bursting at his weakened state and voice. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” 

He spreads his arms wide, beckoning her in for a hug. She throws herself at the bed, clinging tightly onto her uncle and only crying more when she feels how thin he is. There’s barely anything of him there, she thinks to herself as he cradles her head and pats her hair.

“You’ve no clue how much we’ve all missed you, Ro,” Harry whispers into her hair, turning his head away to splutter slightly. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she gulps down tears. “I’ve been  _ appalling  _ and I just  _ ran away _ and I should have come home and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he grinned down at her. He’s still towering over her, despite everything, and she curses Mum’s genes for making her and Hugo shrimps of the family. “You were grieving and scared, but you’re here now.”

“But I-”

“You are a product of your parents and I will never hold that against you, Rosie,” Harry laughed, squeezing her into his side. His laugh is a bark, and it nearly makes her jump. “No one will, and if they do, I’ll fight them.”

“I think I’m a bit old for you to be fighting my battles, Harry,” she laughs, wiping tears away as she thinks of the times he’d told various cousins to leave off on her account.

“Yeah, but I’m dying,” Harry winks at her. “Means I win every argument now.”

-

_ july  _

At half five on a Friday morning, Mum walks into Alex’s bedroom and tells him it’s go-time. He’s up and gone by quarter to.

Alex Potter is many things and has been a prat to many people, but he values his role of big brother and eldest cousin more than anything in the world. So when Mum says its go-time, he knows he’s got to get the littles gathered up. Shit’s about to hit the fan, and he needs them all together to manage it better. 

‘Go-time’, as Dad had decided to deem it, meant Gramps wasn’t good. It meant Mum was packing an unholy amount of teabags and tissues into the boot of her car. It meant Dr Nasim had been on the blower. It meant Nana needed to be hugged tighter. It meant the world wasn’t far off becoming significantly duller. 

It meant Alex had to take up the mantle he was so proud of and ready the littles, maybe Teddy’s three, probably Emmy, and definitely someone else along the way, to throw them into Nan’s front room, and hand them off to Ruby to say goodbye to Gramps when the time came. 

He could assume Matt was in charge of informing the wider family, and that Lisa had been onto Mungo’s at some stage. Hugo had probably already shut up the shop before even opening. Auntie Mione would need lotion for her poor hands, so he’d need to pick that up somewhere. Dad would want chewing gum. Lil would want duct tape to stop Dad’s chewing. Ruby would want something somewhere.  _ So much to do.  _

It had been mentioned on many occasions (mainly by Auntie Mione and Uncle Ron) that Alex had inherited Gramps’ talent for compartmentalisation. While both had argued against it, claiming they never did, it was moments like these, as he spun on the spot and appeared in Dad’s hallway, that he had to admit that maybe they’d had a point.

Within half an hour, he has his little sister and brother prepped and poor half-asleep Lisa ready to go when needed. He's still half-asleep himself as Dot arrives holding a disheveled Teddy’s hand. Dot hugs him tightly and Teddy absentmindedly ruffles his hair, more bags under his eyes than in an airport baggage area. 

“Any news?” Dot whispers, grabbing onto Alex’s hand. She’s wild looking, with hair a sharp shade of emerald to match Gramps. Ted’s features are starting to slide around like they do when he’s anxious. Remus Lupin looks up the stairs but, with higher cheekbones and a hooked nose, James Potter turns back to the children. 

“Haven’t seen anyone since I got in,” Alex shrugs, shoving any worries firmly back into their box. 

“Have you eaten, Al?” Teddy mutters, a hand lingering on Alex’s shoulder as he shakes his head. “Right, well that’s a distraction we can focus on, then.”

They turn for the kitchen and find Hugo standing there, chewing anxiously on his thumb nail. He looks mental as the morning light leaks in through the window over the door. 

“Tea?” he asks, nodding to the kitchen door with a bob of ginger poof. 

Mum is outside in twenty minutes, bringing with her enough supplies to keep them all going for a year. 

“Neville would be so proud, Ally,” Hugo grins from behind a slice of toast. 

“He said he’ll be down later,” she says, rubbing the back of her son’s neck and winking at him. “Reckons Harry owes him a few more secrets about the castle layouts.”

They all stop when they hear someone coming down the stairs, and Alex can’t help but reach out to grab his mum’s hand. They hear mumbling from the hall, only for a scattered Ru and Dad to appear through the door.

A moment of halted silence as they all wait with baited breath.

“Morning,” Ru drawls, holding out a hand for a mug to fly into.

“Well?” Hugo asks, gesturing his toast around so a blob of marmalade flies off onto Nan’s favourite tablemat. 

“No change, mate,” Dad says, tired. They let out a collective sigh as he pulls Alex into a hug. “No change.”

“Lil’s trying to convince Mum to get something to eat,” Ruby says, staring hungrily at Mum’s bag of tricks while his tea is poured. “She’s been up all night.”

“He took a turn about two, she reckons,” Dad sighs, keeping his arm looped around his son’s shoulders. “The doc has been out, the healer’s only just gone, and they both reckon the same.” 

“Well, shit,” Ted sighs, leaning on the table and holding onto Ru’s hand. 

“Basically.”

A disgruntled Nan eventually appears down the stairs, Lilly behind her physically pushing her into a chair and forcing a sandwich into her hand. She keeps her wand directed at the teapot so Nan can’t escape being fed.

It’s quiet and sort of serene in the kitchen as they all sit, just eating and chawing at deep fear and concern. Nan doses off in her seat, Ru raids Mum’s food for sweets, and Teddy’s face continues to shift.

“Hermione won’t leave him,” Lilly sighs, blowing on her coffee. “Poor thing must be famished.”

“I’ll bring her something,” Alex pipes up from his perch beside Dad. 

“Love, I don’t know if you want to see him like this,” Lilly purses her lips and shakes her hair. 

“He’s still my granddad,” Alex says firmly, brows furrowing. Did they all think he was just one of the kids, even now?

Lil looks past him, straight to Dad, tense at his side. A beat, but Dad shrugs, elbowing him in the side.

“If he wants to go.”

Mum fixes him a tray stacked with food and goodies, consulting Hugo for Mione’s favourites as she does so. He struggles to balance it going up the first two steps, giving up and whipping out his wand to make it easier.

Gramps’ door is open, and he can just make out Hermione’s groans and Gramps’ chuckles as they transform into spluttering coughs. He feels like an intruder as he edges into the room, supplies following along.

“Hi, mate,” Gramps grins at him from his bed. He’s small, scrawny, almost, but he doesn’t look as bad as everyone made it out to be, not to Alex, anyways. He just looks like  _ Gramps _ , nothing more, nothing less. 

“You absolute star,” Hermione groans as Alex sits at the edge of Gramps’ bed and throws a tube of her hand cream at her. “Alex can defend me, now.”

“Not a chance, Mione,” Gramps winks at him. “He’s my main man.” His eyes follow Alex’s hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fresh box of cigarettes, tapping one out for his grandfather.

“See?” Gramps says around the cigarette as Alex leans over with a lighter. “Granddad is always number one.”

“Why do you need defending?” Alex asks as he hides the box in the bedside locker.

“We were just reliving Hermione’s lost loves, that’s all,” Gramps grins as he takes a long drag and stretches his arm out. Only now does Alex see the tap inside his wrist, some strange golden fluid flying in through a connecting tube. Ruby had mentioned something about a pump, but whether this was it or not, he couldn’t tell.

“I’ll remind you that Viktor was a lovely boy,” Hermione rubs her hands together. “I’d  _ much  _ rather talk about Cho-”

“Hermione-”

“Or  _ Talula _ ,” she looks up with manic eyes, like she’d just remembered something she’d be struggling to remember for years.

“ _ Absolutely not!”  _ Gramps looks outraged, but Alex is all ears, a smile breaking across his face as he looks from one of them to the other.

“Who’s Talula?” he swivels round to face his grandaunt.

“Talula,” she’s relishing the spluttering groans from Gramps. “Was the very  _ interesting  _ lady your granddad went out with for a while before him and your Nan were married.”

“Oh Merlin, I remember her,” Teddy appears at the doorway, pulling Ruby, Lil, Dad, and Nan along with him, armed with blankets and extra pillows, several trays of food floating in after them. “She let me run off in a park and couldn’t understand why Haz was upset.”

“She burned Ron’s arm so badly that he had a scar about a foot long,” Gramps cried out, stretching out his arm to nestle Nana in beside him. “She was bloody mental.”

“Just as well you got sense eventually, Potter,” Nan pats his belly and they all let out a laugh. She plays with a button on his shirt as the rest of them talk on, mostly about Dad’s apparent long list of ex’s. Alex watches them out of the corner of his eye, watches Gramps talk in her hair, watches Nan scornfully glare at the butt of a cigarette in the ashtray by the bed. Gramps plays with her hair, causing her to slap him gently and smile up at his worn face. He’s so tired. He’s earned his rest, Alex supposes.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'in my life' by the beatles


End file.
